


quaintrelle

by notorious



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Drug Use, F/F, best friends with benefits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 03:18:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16467641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notorious/pseuds/notorious
Summary: (n.) a woman who emphasizes a life of passion, expressed through personal style, leisurely pastimes, charm, and cultivation of life's pleasures.





	quaintrelle

Veronica goes to class high because there’s no reason not to, but she hasn’t eaten breakfast or downed a coffee, and is beautifully susceptible to opiates. Cheryl sits watch in the seat beside and takes notes for the both of them because Veronica is too close to passing out. She’ll need another nap after lunch. 

So Veronica comes to with her professor, Cheryl, and a blonde girl she can’t place hovering over her. Cheryl looks unsurprised and accustomed to the situation. It’s happened before. Cheryl isn’t worried. Miss Grundy looks concerned, and the blonde girl looks like her dog just died. 

“…What’d I miss?” Veronica asks the crowd.

“Told you,” Cheryl chimes in. “She sleeps like a rock. You’d have an easier time rousing King Tut.” 

The blonde girl looks skeptical, like one of those women who calls the cops on kids on skateboards. 

Grundy speaks first. To Cheryl, like Veronica isn’t sitting _right_ there, like this wasn’t about her in the first place: “You can get Veronica back to the dorms in one piece, I trust?”

She can get herself back, thank you very much. But she isn’t about to mouth off to a professor after sleeping in class. 

Veronica makes eyes at Cheryl instead. They both know what that look means. Lunch. They have outstanding lunch plans, Cheryl and Veronica. They do everything together. They always have. Ever since freshman year. 

“Yeah, Blossom,” Veronica teases. “Take me home.”

And Cheryl: “That settles that.” 

And the blonde girl: “Shouldn’t you take her to a hospital? Just in case?”

“You can take me to the hospital when there’s legitimate cause, Bubbles.” 

So Veronica leaves with Cheryl and they go giggling. They’re a match made in hell, truly. Cheryl and all her fire, Veronica and all her addictive glory. Oh, how well they fuel each other. It’s a highly flammable relationship. 

At lunch Cheryl sidles up to Veronica and tells her to open up, drops a little blue pill on her tongue, and tells her to chew. Veronica is all too obedient. It’s an exchange they’ve made a thousand times. The girls share pills like candy. Only rule is nothing blacklisted. And hallucinogens require a prior warning. Ecstasy is okay. 

Like the time at Hiram’s fundraiser for survivors of abuse when Veronica dragged Cheryl to the bathroom for a quickie and fed her an ecstasy pill with her tongue. No warning necessary. 

Or the time Veronica fell asleep with a hand down her panties and Cheryl woke her up with a dose and a warm mouth on her tits. It’s a living. There are few boundaries left between Veronica and Cheryl, if there ever were any. Like how they fucked the first night they met. Best friends ever since. Only makes sense. 

Three days later Veronica goes to class high again, this time on ecstasy, and this time Cheryl is rolling too. They only realize they’re not alone when the blonde girl from the other day drops down in the row before them and turns, hooks an arm over the back of her seat, and gives them an inquisitive look. 

Cheryl and Veronica are busy whispering to each other when: “What the hell is the deal with you two?”

Cheryl’s surprised at the balls this girl has and laughs aloud. A couple heads turn. She glares them away. 

Veronica grins at her bombshell’s side, drops her forehead to Cheryl’s shoulder to hide the giggles. The world isn’t in hyper-speed, but the girls are in overdrive, and none of it is really real right now. 

Neither of them know how to answer at first. They don’t know this girl, have only seen her twice now, and she thinks she has the right to pry? In what world… 

“What’s it to you, dollar-store Barbie?”

“My name is _Betty,_ first of all. Second, I was _worried_ about your friend. People don’t just go….out like that. And you, you called it _sleeping._ I was one of two other people there. Curiosity justified.” 

The girls are staring at her, don’t know what to think, and have half a mind to laugh. Cheryl would call Betty neurotic, Veronica would say she’s nosy. 

And Betty is staring back, eyes narrowed and expectant, like Cheryl and Veronica owe her something. They don’t, of course, and Cheryl tells her as much, but Veronica starts to feel bad because Betty’s only coming from a place of worry. 

So. “Listen. Betty. I’m okay, that I can promise you,” Veronica tells her. And Cheryl’s a little salty about the admission, or maybe just possessive, playing guard dog. Probably has something to do with the E. 

They aren’t dating, not really, but they may as well be. Everything is done together. Together or not at all. Usually. They’re used to it. So yeah, Cheryl doesn’t love this new girl inserting herself into their business. They’re fine on their own. No assistance needed.

Cheryl’s eyebrows rise and fall in condescension. She wants to keep her girl to herself, thank you very much. 

Two weeks later and Betty’s slipping a little in Grundy’s class. She spends too much time thinking about that girl and her fiery sidekick and not enough time taking notes. 

“I’m surprised, Betty. The first half of the semester went so well.” 

“I know, Miss Grundy. There’s been….a lot on my mind the last few weeks.” Betty looks down at her hands, at the cluster of half-moons branded into her palms. “Is there anything I can do to pick up my marks?” 

Grundy runs a finger down a list, taps a name, and tells Betty she can pair up with Veronica, who leads the class in grades. 

Betty balks. 

“Veronica? The same Veronica who passed out under suspicious circumstances and refused to explain?”

Grundy sighs, tells her yes, the very same. Also the same Veronica who pulls consistently stellar marks. Never falters. 

“Give her a chance, Betty. You may be surprised at what you learn.” 

“Well. That’s not cryptic at all.” Betty clenches her fists. Hello, half-moons. “Fine. Thanks for your help.” 

Betty retreats to her dorm with another headache and less hope for her grades. She’s never fallen so low in class before. And it’s not like she’s in danger of failing, not yet, but she still doesn’t like it. 

Back at the dorm she finds Ethel curled up with a book looking like she’d rather not be disturbed. So Betty disturbs her anyway because she’s run out of shame for the day. 

“Does the name Veronica Lodge mean anything to you, Ethel?”

The first response is a sigh, a big one, and Ethel waits a beat to mark her page and set her book down. 

“I wish it didn’t,” Ethel tells her. 

_Cryptic_ , Betty thinks. _Something must be in the air today._

“But…?”

Ethel sighs again, and Betty should probably feel bad about coaxing her into a conversation she clearly doesn’t want to have, but…

“My father used to do business with Mr. Lodge. It cost him everything. My family still hasn’t fully recovered.” Ethel trails off. She doesn’t like thinking about this. Especially when Betty is playing investigative journalist. She feels like her life is under a microscope all of the sudden. 

“And what about Veronica?” Betty fires off. 

It takes Ethel a minute to answer. She needs to word it right, needs to paint Veronica’s essence with a steady hand. Because the jury’s still out on the Lodge girl. 

“Veronica is….not as horrible as her father, I’ll give her that much. Her morals aren’t dodgy like her parents’. But still questionable. She exists out of all of our leagues.” 

She _does_ look like she’s living in a dream, in a reality shifted a single inch. Veronica looks like she exists for a higher power. 

“But she’s not _good?”_

Ethel shrugs. 

“I’d say she’s a pawn in her father’s game. Whether she’s aware of it or not, I couldn’t say.”

Quiet hangs in the air and Ethel gives her book a glance of longing. Betty isn’t ready to kill the conversation. Not yet. She looks at her roommate, brows furrowed, wondering how well Ethel actually knows Veronica. 

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a scribble in my work journal. Don't know if it should go anywhere. Penny for your thoughts?


End file.
